Hating Katniss Everdeen
by srk789
Summary: Rye Mellark didn't volunteer for his brother, and now he has to watch Peeta in the Games. Originally written for promptsinpanem.


I hate Katniss Everdeen. _Nobody _volunteers, ever. Not for a sister, brother, or best friend in the world. But she just did.

If this were a normal Reaping, I'd have nothing to explain, not to myself or my father or my older brother Farl. And, worst of all, to Peeta. It would still be unbearable, of course, watching Peeta be forced to compete in this sick game. But at least I could have avoided this ache in my gut telling me that _this is all my fault_.

Even if Farl or Papa don't mention my failure, I know they'll be thinking about it.

Fucking Katniss Everdeen.

"Peeta," I say to my brother who is almost certainly going to die. "Look. I'm sorry about…well…you know."

He looks at me with watery eyes. Shit. This is Peeta, though, so he makes an attempt at a smile. "Rye. It's okay. I don't blame you."

I wish I could know if that's really true. But I can't.

I can't do much of anything right now, it seems.

"You're better at wrestling than you used to be," I blurt out. "You almost beat me last week. That could come in handy in the arena."

"Sure," he says levelly, probably more for my comfort than his.

Shit. I'm no good at this stuff. Wait….did I just say that out loud? Peeta's quirked eyebrow indicates that I did.

"Peet, I….look. You can win this," I say pitifully.

"Right," he says, in a tone which says that he doesn't really think so.

"You've been a good brother, Peet," I mumble. I don't know what else to say. I know I should say something, that this is probably the last time I'm going to see my brother, but I'm don't know what I should say Peeta's always been the one who's good at this stuff, not me.

"You too, Rye."

There isn't much more to say. I pull him into a hug. His body stiffens a bit in surprise—we Mellark brothers really aren't the touchy sort—but he returns it.

And then the Peacekeeper comes in, coolly announcing that my time is up.

So that's it, then. This is the last time I'll ever see my brother alive.

I hate Katniss Everdeen and her need to be the heroic sister.

But not as much as I hate myself.

Our family gatherings are frequently full of awkwardness, but without Peeta it's been much, much worse. I didn't quite realize until now how important he is to our family, how he always seems to have a light joke or kind remark appropriate to the occasion, even when Mother's at her worst. Needless to say, the bakery has been horribly silent the past day, except for Papa's occasional choked sobs, which are even worse than the silence.

Nobody says anything as we walk together to the square for the mandatory public viewing of tonight's tribute parade.

I hope this year's costumes are coal miner uniforms rather than nudity and coal dust. My brother deserves that much dignity, at least.

But when they come out, it's neither of those things. Instead, my brother and Katniss Everdeen are on fire.

While the announcers go on about the costumes, I look at Peeta's face as the chariot rides through the Capitol streets. I notice the way he's looking at Katniss Everdeen. It's the same expression I've seen on Farl when his fiancée Myra walks into the bakery. Oh no.

Not only is my brother in the Hunger Games, but he's in the Hunger Games with a girl he likes, a girl he can't possible kill. And I could have stopped it, but I didn't.

I really hate Katniss Everdeen.

Watching the Games, I know what's going to happen before it does. My brother is going to go back and do something stupid for Katniss Everdeen. For a girl who doesn't even seem to care very much about him. For a girl who isn't even anything special, if you ask me.

When he screams at her to run, I scream at him to do the same.

But of course he can't hear me, and it's too late for him anyway. When Cato slices the sword into Peeta's leg, the knot that has been in my stomach since the Reaping swells.

I knew this was going to happen. My stupid, noble brother, who isn't even trying to save himself, but that…that _girl_.

For the thousandth time, I think back to the moment when Effie Trinket asked for volunteers.

The thing is, I'm not sure I could even say now that I would have done things differently. Not if I'm being honest with myself.

Peeta's face contorts in agony as blood spurts down his leg. It must hurt a lot for him to make that kind of whimpering noise. I wonder if he's thinking of me, if he hates me now. Because if I were him, I would hate me.

By the fourth day of watching my brother die slowly in a mudbank, I find myself wishing guiltily that his heart would just give out already and end this torture—for him, for me, for all of us. Papa hasn't said more than five words since it happened, and even Mother has been showing signs of distress. The other day I thought I heard her sniffling while she was doing the account books for the bakery.

Peeta is so well-camouflaged that the cameras can't show us much his face or body—a small but palatable mercy—but they insist on playing the sounds of his dying, delirious state.

It's usually hard to make out what, exactly, he's saying, but one word seems to recur with more frequency than any other. _Katniss_.

Katniss, the girl that seems to be monopolizing his attention even now. Katniss, the girl who isn't doing a damn thing to save him now, though the more rational part of me admits that there probably isn't much she could do. Katniss, the girl my brother thought was worth dying for.

I _really_ hate Katniss Everdeen.

When Katniss risks her life to get the medicine that will save Peeta's, I have to admit that maybe she's not as quite awful as I've been thinking. The girl sure has guts, I'll give her that much. She doesn't hesitate to risk herself for others—not for Prim, Peeta, or that poor little girl Rue.

But even that feeds my resentment. I probably weigh almost twice what this girl from the Seam does, and yet _she's_ the one going around saving everyone. Including the little brother who I didn't volunteer for.

As she runs towards the Cornucopia to get the medicine for Peeta, I could swear that her grey eyes mock me.

When Claudius Templesmith announces that the previous change in rules has been revoked, I finally find someone who I hate more than Katniss Everdeen. To lead us all to believe that both of them could survive only to snatch away that hope at the last minute…

I can't say it out loud, but I really hate the Capitol.

Peeta, stupid fucking noble Peeta, tries to convince Katniss to kill him, and I hate him too just then, him and Katniss and the Capitol and anyone having anything to do with these games.

Damnit, doesn't he realize that if he dies, I'll have to spend the rest of my life knowing that it was my fault? Doesn't he care at all about that?

I really am a selfish bastard. All of Panem knows it by now, surely.

But then Katniss pulls out those berries, her face full of the defiant rage which courses through my own veins. And I can't hate her.

Maybe my brother does know how to pick them.


End file.
